The Upside of a Hangover
by The Narrator
Summary: Stories of what goes on when certain senior members of the White Lotus Society hang out in bars. Alcohol and wenches are a must.
1. The Cold Dish

_**The Upside of a Hangover  
**_

Part I: **The Cold Dish

* * *

**

Late one early autumn night, in an unobtrusive public house located in one of the less-war-torn quarters of the first ring of Ba Sing Se, five certain Masters of a certain Society quietly convened a well-deserved (albeit, much-delayed) celebration of their mutual exploits in liberating of the Earth Kingdom capital/restoring of the world to peace, harmony, balance, etc.,etc., _ad naseum_.

"Hee hee hee, well, took you long enough to escape the baby-sitting duties and join us, Grand Master Iroh!" Bumi joshed at the far end of the bar, taking a swig of his rock-crystal-laced Martini Esoterica.

"My guests include not only the Avatar and his teachers, but also the _current_ Firelord, Your Majesty," demurred Iroh (seated two stools down from the mad king) with ill-feigned modesty, "I consider it an honor, not a chore." He sipped his Rising Sun with an air of satisfaction.

"Is it wise for your neph-, I mean, Firelord Zuko to be absent from his throne at such a critical time?" Jeong-Jeong, at the other end of the bar, next to Iroh, asked. He narrowed his eyes at his still-smoking B-52, as if considering to relight it. "Although Ozai is deposed, he is still alive, him and his daughter both; they will provide invaluable rallying points for any internal opposition, if they did not already make preparations for such an eventuality. Such is the way of tyrants and their ilk. No offense."

"None taken," Iroh replied lightly. He was about to add a more substantial answer to his old comrade's question when he was abruptly cut off by the resident waterbender, seated on the other stool beside him.

"Don't worry about sh- stuff like that!" Pakku exclaimed vehemently, thumping the scarred wooden counter with an emphatic fist, nearly toppling his (fifth) rum highball. "The lynch mobs'll take care of whats-his-face... OSAI! Yeah, that'll teach 'im." Oblivious to the rather mortified expressions of his drinking companions, Pakku seized his shot-galss and slung its contents back into his throat. "Awful nice of the *hic!* bald kid... Avatar... thingy... to let the mob have their day of jussssstice..."

"I doubt very much that was what Avatar Aang had in mind when he refused to execute Ozai," Piandao, occupying the stool between the thoroughly sozzled waterbender and the (at least) half-intoxicated King of Omashu and feeling rather put-out regarding the seating arrangement, said somewhat sharply. He caught Pakku's arm before his old friend could flag down the bartender. "You have had enough for the time being."

"Blah, you nag worse than my new wife," Pakku groused, his ice-blue eyes narrowing blearily at the swordmaster. Suddenly he leered, making a sound that other patrons, wholly unconnected to the party, would, to a man, call a "giggle." "At least she makes up for it later..."

"HAW-HAWW-HEE-*SNORT*-AHAW-HAW-HAW-HAW!!!" Bumi guffawed at the witticism, after dousing the mirror and wall opposite with a generous spray of mixed liquor, "Nice!" He reached across the increasingly distressed Piandao to heartily slap Pakku's outstretched palm, was returned the favor, whereupon both men bumped knuckles and gave each other a "thumbs up."

"Ought you be returning to your wife with haste, Pakku?" Iroh mentioned cheerfully, wishing there was someway to record Pakku's unrestrained behavior in all its glory for the sake of posterity (or at least, Pakku's much-abused pupils).

"Naw, not until my new grandkids decide to stop hanging around and show her they aren't missing any limbs. You know how women are: won't believe something until they see it," Pakku dismissed slurringly.

"Oh, but they have plenty of ways to..." Bumi started in on what would inevitably some sort of double-entendre that would lead to more sophomoric demonstrations of avidity, if Piandao did not once again step in.

"Gentlemen," he interrupted sternly, "There are more serious matters at hand. Leaving at present Pakku's marital and avorial concerns, Master Iroh..." here he turned to the sanguine Grand Master, "Surely you are concerned for the welfare of the Fire Nation!"

"Whatever do you mean?" returned the older man warmly, "Surely you do not doubt the ability of Avatar Aang to stave off any uprisings against Firelord Zuko's reign?" He glanced sidelong at Piandao, who took as somewhat hasty interest in the speared olive in his half-empty vodka martini. "Or perhaps you doubt my decision to support his accession in the first place?"

"None of us here entertain such doubts in the least, Iroh," Jeong-jeong stated with leaden tones, glaring at the three other men, who had varying expressions of hesitation writ large on their faces. He rapped the bar, and another B-52, topped with blue and orange flame was deposited in short order by the over-qualified bartender. "However..." He swallowed the drink, flame and all, before fixing Iroh with a somewhat wary stare. "I myself can't help but think you have an ulterior motive in this."

"Hm?" Iroh was the picture of offended innocence as he raised his eyebrows.

Jeong-jeong gaped. "I knew it!" he blared, jumping to this feet and knocking over his barstool, still staring at Iroh in wonderment and awe, intermixed heavily with dread.

"Take your seat before someone calls the night watch to have you arrested for public disturbance," Piandao muttered into his hand, after glancing over his shoulder.

("Wouldn't be the first time," noted Bumi with a snicker into his Tequila Matador, "Ah, youth...")

"Eh, what? What's got your tunic in a twist now, Jeong-jeong?" Pakku wanted to know. He had skillfully procured another highball whilst Piandao had been distracted, and was thus regarding his fellow Society member's antics with benevolent puzzlement.

"You... he... " Jeong-jeong sputtered, hauling his stool upright and passing a shaking hand through his disordered white mane as he resumed his seat. He took a deep, cleansing breath, and, ignoring Iroh's patently false expression of bemusement, spoke to his baffled companions. "If you recall... I was rather disheartened by Master Iroh's decision _not_ to require some act of good faith on his nephew's part to exhibit the sincerity of his repentance, in order to make amends for the grievous in..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, we know, you wanted to smack the brat silly for putting Iroh through hell, get on with it," Bumi urged, aware that his friend was about to launch into one of his long-winded tirades regarding honor, morality, etc.,etc.,_ad naseum_.

Jeong-jeong glared, but continued. "Imagine it gentleman, if you will, and I am certain I need not paint too lurid a picture for your benefit: the Great War brought a curse of a century of men's worst acts against men, exercised by the madness, I am shamed to admit, of the rulers of the Fire Nation. The breadth of suffering cannot be comprehended, not if we were to live another hundred years. And now... now, with an Avatar who is still young, and a Firelord who is untried, the victims of the _all_ nations will seek redress. They will DEMAND it. And who now, will they demand it of?"

Pakku snorted. "Well, the Fire Nation, of course."

"Of the Firelord," Piandao corrected, eyes widening as he caught hold of Jeong-jeong's intent. He too gaped at Iroh.

It took some seconds more for the slightly addled processes of the other two to catch up, whereupon they stared at the Grand Master.

"Well, I am certain my abdication will be remarked on far and wide as a vote of confidence..." Iroh began.

"You're throwing him to the bat-wolves and you know it!" Piandao exclaimed heatedly.

Jeong-jeong, having sufficiently recovered his composure, grinned into his hand. "There's a reason he is a Grand Master, you know..." he remarked, his expression rather wolfish itself.

"Sheer genius," affirmed Pakku cheerfully, merrily raising his shotglass in Iroh's direction.

"My hat's off to you... if it hadn't already been confiscated by the barmaid," Bumi added.

"I maintain I have no idea as to why you all see fit to libel me so," Iroh sniffed, sounding quite injured, but for once unable to conceal the smirk that had been threatening since the conversation began.

"... you're evil," Piandao remarked after a space. He shrugged. "Oh well..."

Thus resolved, the party continued long into the early morning hours.

**

* * *

**

**A/N: **I wrote this fic wanting to exorcise some of my disappointment over the lack of WLS action in the finale, and also because I cannot get over how perfect the revenge Iroh managed to exact on Zuko by abdicating the throne of the Fire Nation. Sheer genius. :3

I dunno why I chose Pakku to be the silly drunk, but it was fun to write him that way.


	2. Turn About

_**The Upside of a Hangover**_

Part II: **Turn About

* * *

**

The Pai-sho parlor in Omashu was new, brand new, although it had been designed, constructed, and decorated to enforce an atmosphere of "lived-in"-ness and complacent decrepitude.

It was a jarring dissonance for anyone who paid attention, a false sense of "normalcy" inculcated into a locale where all one had to do was pull aside a curtain to see the remnants of an abandoned, scorched and battered hulk of a Fire Nation weapons emplacement across the rear courtyard.

Of course, the architect/owner/manager had been well aware of this. Not only were highly elaborate (and permanently locked) decorative ventilation screens placed over every window, but also every attention had been paid toward making the interior so delightful one would never _want_ to peer out of those windows. The resplendent basement had been with fine viands and liquors, and the parlor had been staffed entirely with buxom, beautiful, and intelligent young women. These "barmaids" (although the term was patently inadequate, none of them minded) were as capable at humbling an upstart "prodigy" from Ba Sing Se at the parlor's premier game of strategy (and making him like it) as they were at hauling six one-liter steins of foaming ale in one trip from the kitchen to the private rooms on the second and third floors.

"Nice place you got here," Pakku summed up rather sardonically as one of the aforementioned barmaids winked cheekily at her boss before drawing the heavily-latticed screen closed behind her.

"Why, thank you!" Bumi replied boisterously, cheerfully pretending to be oblivious to Pakku's black humor, "You know, I interviewed each and every one of the girls working here myself, just to make sure they were qualified. That was Miki who just left, if I forgot to mention: she's a master of Eastern White Phoenix strategy, the only one I could find. Maybe you'll be up for a set-to with her later in the evening, eh, Jeong-jeong?"

"I highly doubt that," Jeong-jeong growled, before catching himself; Bumi was the evening's host, and it did him no credit to sound like a boarqupine with a sore tooth. "Perhaps another day."

Bumi sighed and spread his hands. "You younguns, always thinking you can put off 'til tomorrow what you should do today, especially when it involves a lass of her… qualifications."

The only one to crack a smile at this pronouncement was the last member of the party, and this only because it was a rare sight indeed to witness Jeong-jeong so obviously flustered by Bumi's insinuations. "Be that as it may, we have serious matters to discuss," Piandao reminded his fellow Order members over the sound of Jeong-jeong's irate, incomprehensible sputters, "Even Miki should be considered a secondary priority."

The corners of Bumi's mouth turned down so low it was amazing the entire bottom half of his face did not slide off. "I suppose I'm outvoted. If only Grand Master Iroh were here, he'd agree with me."

"So, it's definite he returned to the Fire Nation capital?" Pakku asked, after taking a long pull of ale. He sounded smug. "Called it."

Jeong-jeong glared at him witheringly. "We all did, Pakku, and there's nothing special in "calling" the obvious," he grumbled, also taking a drink.

"It was an outside hope he would be allowed to enjoy his retirement in peace, as we all knew," Piandao reflected soberly, staring down into his emptied stein, "I am merely surprised by how long it took the young Fire Lord to recall Master Iroh to service."

"Pfft, I advised him to do it from day one," Jeong-jeong tossed out rather unnecessarily, "Mulishness seems to be a royal family trait. I can't tell you how many times I had to put up with that young git droning on and on about how 'Uncle Iroh trusted me to do this' or 'the Fire Lord is expected to shoulder that' or some other such nonsense."

"Is that why you resigned from the Ministry?" Piandao asked, genuinely curious.

"Partly." Jeong-Jeong emptied his stein and thumped it down on the earthbending-carved Pai-sho board/table (cleared of tiles for the sake of that night's meeting only) with a thunk!, "I was trying to wake him up, convince him that he had to rely on others who actually had some experience in government, rather than just counting on his idealism and the Avatar's good graces to lead."

"Probably would have been more effective if you'd been the most senior minister to do so, after all of four months," Pakku pointed out. He pulled the thick, emerald-green silken chord that clanged down in the kitchen below, informing the staff that Special Private Room #8 required another round. "At least Master Iroh will have the ability to bring about most of officials the Fire Lord's managed to alienate, especially the ones in the military with his force reduction policies."

"I admire the boy for trying to make up for past mistakes," Bumi stated, uncharacteristically lucid, "but he's making some of the same mistakes Fire Lords before him made, if in entirely new ways: taking on too much, too fast, and not relying on popular support. Speaking of," here he looked at the resident Fire Nation-affiliated contingent, "have I suddenly gone mad or did I hear that the Fire Army is abandoning the Occupied Territories?"

"Not quite," Jeong-jeong replied, "Fire Lord Zuko has declared that he will unilaterally withdraw all forces within two hundred miles of Ba Sing Se as a gesture of good faith to the new Earth King. The question of the Occupied Territories will continue to be negotiated in the next Nations Peace Conference."

"Ah – bet Aang suggested that to him," Bumi said, smiling broadly.

"Actually, the Avatar tried to convince the Fire Lord to withdraw all the way back to lines established fifty years ago, which would have left any of the colonies there open to reprisals," the tufty-headed former rebel said darkly, "Well, more so than they already are. The Earth King was pushing for that as well, but I managed to convince the Fire Lord to hold strong."

"And then you resigned," Pakku noted coolly.

Jeong-jeong's retort was overshadowed by Miki's return. The barmaid, in addition to the overflowing mugs she carried, had slung a dispatch case around her left shoulder; this she gave to Bumi, whispering something in his ear as she did so.

"Looks like they found me, gentleman," Bumi gloomily informed his puzzled guests as the screen slid to once more, "I knew that statue of me couldn't fool them for long, not even though I ensured it wore my best hat."

"Don't tell me you used our annual meeting as an excuse to run out on your palace staff again," Piandao groaned into his hand.

"Okay, I won't," Bumi practically chirped, "But we're going to have to call it quits before my prime minister's panties get into much more of a twist." He slid the stack of scrolls from the dispatch case and discarded the empty satchel on the floor. "This is what you all have come here for: the latest intelligence from out information network." He shoved the scrolls unceremoniously into the center of the grid-lined round table. "There's also a scroll for each of you containing Grand Master Iroh's new directives; those would be the smaller ones."

The private room fell silent as the men, minus Bumi (who ignored his scrolls in favor of finessing the elaborate pattern of trefoils he had carved into the ceiling), skimmed through the material, perusing the characters with various expressions of growing alarm.

"Of the ten latest attempts to free deposed Fire Lord Ozai," Pakku unconsciously read aloud, "Seven were assassination attempts, four of which can be traced back to the Earth King's agents. Why am I not surprised?"

"Yes, we're all aware of the fact that you think the mob should have been allowed to tear Ozai apart a year ago, Pakku, you don't need to keep on harping on it," Jeong-jeong managed through grit teeth.

"Bad enough that Azula escaped to the desert, with an entire corps of the Army defecting to join her, I suppose," Pakku mused as if to himself, "Still, par for the course insofar as Fire Nation prison security is concerned."

"Don't be ruining the polish on the table, it's hard to get it that way after it's been scorched," Bumi told Jeong-jeong a trifle plaintively.

"This new Earth King – it says here that not only was he a cousin of the former earth King, but that he actually served in your palace guard, Bumi," Piandao spoke up, more to direct the conversation to a new, safer topic rather than because he was surprised.

"Really?" Bumi riffled through Jeong-jeong's copy of the report. "Well, ain't that a kick in the head. Lieutenant Qiang ought to have mentioned that to me. I think I'm hurt."

"Says here a member of our Order stationed in Ba Sing Se spirited him out of the capitol only a few days after he was born, to keep him out of Dai Li hands," Pakku said, "But why didn't – oh. She was murdered a month later, but the infant was never found. It must have half-killed Master Sheng-di to have that blotch on his record."

"Master Spider lost track of someone in his web?" Bumi asked, raising surprised eyebrows. He grinned maliciously, looking uncannily like the mask of some underworld ghoul. "Now I have something to tease him with next time he visits."

"You know, it's never a good idea to get on the spymaster's bad side," Piandao advised, "He might dig up something to blackmail you with or…"

Bumi looked at him blankly.

"Never mind," Piandao finished quickly, aware that warning a madman about the machinations of blackmail and espionage was as useless as tossing pebbles to stop a rampaging komodo-rhino. Particularly when said madman had been running intellectual rings around his opponents for well on a century.

"It explains his determination to extract blood-price from the Fire Nation, since it seems he was also part of the resistance group that stayed behind after the Fire Nation occupied the city – ideological purists can be a handful," Jeong-jeong said wearily, "What I wouldn't give to have that pragmatic old son of a bitch Long Feng still around; at least he could have reigned the man in a bit."

"Bite your tongue," Piandao said sharply, "Long Feng would have done far worse with the new powers granted the Earth King; he would have given carte blanche to the mob to empty Ba Sing Se and go on a killing spree in their old home towns!"

"Hrmmmm…" Jeong-jeong did not vocally concede the point, but he did take a drink of his ale.

"Seems like I'm going to have to pay a visit to my old employee," Bumi remarked thoughtfully, "I do hate the thought of leaving Omashu in the middle of rebuilding, but if it's a personal favor to Master Iroh…"

"I wouldn't doubt that's what he meant for you to do," Pakku said reproachfully, eyeing Bumi's still-sealed scrolls with a stern gaze he reserved for recalcitrant students (Bumi ignored him, of course). He opened the smaller of the two scrolls in front of him and raised his eyebrows. "Apparently, I am to accompany my step-granddaughter to the next Conference and establish a guild of neutral shipping masters; the Fire Navy has been getting rather high-handed on the water of late." He snapped the scroll closed with a smirk. "Nothing I can't handle, but I suppose Master Iroh is taking Kanna's sensibilities about "special missions" into consideration."

Piandao and Jeong-jeong had, in the meantime, opened their own scrolls and read them. Twin expressions of gloom blossomed on their faces.

"Recalled to duty?" Bumi guessed with a cackle.

Piandao nodded dolorously. "I'm being re-commissioned, and promoted, to take the place of that general who defected."

Jeong-jeong snorted. "You fared better than I – I've been recalled to my ministerial post. And this time, the Grand Master says, he will be "displeased" if I resign."

His compatriots winced sympathetically. "Have another ale," Bumi counseled.

Jeong-jeong nodded. "You know," he said a trifle thickly, "I think tonight I will be trying out Miki's… qualifications… after all."

* * *

**A/N: **Poor Jeong-jeong: I always single him out for teasing, because he is such the quintessential hard-ass. At least he got a wench out of it. :3

I don't know if I will continue this series or not – things are turning grim, and I just wanted the Bad-Ass Old Guys (BAOGs) of Avatar to have some fun. Ma na.


End file.
